


Bedridden

by Otterly



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-10-17 09:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10591248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otterly/pseuds/Otterly
Summary: Anneke's sick. Has been for a while now.Apparently, for some stupid fuckin' reason, this won't stop the rest of the world from having fun without her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> S/O to Comic for helping me through this
> 
> For Thematic Thursday: Illness

“Alright, so that was pretty good, actually.” Wolter makes his judgement on Dolphinboy: The Seven Snakes, shrugging a shoulder and nudging my back. The sudden movement stirs something within me, and I lurch into myself. His voice takes on a more concerned tone as I’m sent into a small coughing fit.

“Whoa, you alright, dude?”

“That’s –– ack –– that’s total bullshit!” I rasp once I’m done. “The cub shoulda stayed behind and lived his life with the dolphin-people. What the hell? He had a bunch of friends there and everything! And that one girl was totally down to bang him!”

“I get where you’re coming from, but she wasn’t that hot. Not ‘I’m gonna stay on this island for you’ hot, anyway. Also: did you not watch the movie? There were lions out there! He had to go find them! The entire time he thought he was the only one left and it’s not like he had a bat signal or anything.”

“Why would he need a bat signal for that? He’d obviously use a lion signal.”

“You know what I mean!”

The credits to a (shitty, emotionally unsatisfying) movie roll in front of us, unaware of the debate that it’s sparked. When the director’s name comes up, I flip it off. Wolt chuckles, now beside me.

“You hungry, Annie?”

I murmur a small “sure”, but he’s already gone to get food.

Wolter’s been oddly parental these past few days. It’s not a side of him I haven’t seen before, but its still weird to watch. Kinda like seeing a wolf pup genuinely growl at a stranger for the first time, but multiple times and years apart so you forget you’ve seen him growl before each time. I mean, don’t _not_ appreciate it. Honestly, he’s probably kept me from dying, but –– how do I put this? I’m kind of getting sick of him.

And that’s not good because in a way, that also means that I’m getting sick of myself. Which is ironic, because I, myself, am sick.

I close my eyes, hearing Wolt’s footsteps traverse the kitchen, each thud against the floor pounding into my skull. He stumbles around for a bit before coming back into the vicinity. The mattress creaks when he sits on it, creating a small slant that the laptop could slide off of and hit the floor. I’ve grown so used to this that shooting my paw out and holding it still is almost a reflex. I count to five before opening my mouth, receiving a nice helping of veggie soup when I do.

“Yeah, so, I gotta swing by Central real quick.”

The words smother me like a home invader trying to kill me in my sleep. I take a moment to swallow my food before snapping my eyes wide. “Why?”

“Can’t keep feeding you soup and making Bugburga runs at 4 PM. We need groceries. Food. Fresh stuff. Like, lemons.”

I sit up, eye twitching. “Oh my god, we’re _fine_ , Wolt. We’ll both be back to normal in no time, just give it a few days.”

To that, he’s silent. Instead of using his words, he just looks at me. He has this stare about him –– something that I don’t have, or at least can’t activate on command. It’s the sort of thing that you can’t say no to.

“You’re gonna go anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“I really hate you.” My paws are grabbed by his, effectively stopping myself from burying them into my eyes. He squeezes them lovingly, with gross sibling affection made twice as uncomfortably intimate by the fact that I’m currently naked.

“Chill for now, okay?” he pleads. “Please?”

A small pause passes before I give a reluctant “yeah” and he smiles. Wolt’s smile really makes me feel weird, sometimes. It’s really too much like mine, and even then it’s still just a little different. When he walks away, I feel worse. Asshole. Who in the world would just up and leave his sister, clearly dying, alone with nothing to do?

No one to be with?

Wolter takes a second to think of any other remarks he needs to make. When he remembers one, his eyes light up. “Oh, and don’t leave the apartment. Just in case a burglar comes in.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” I deadpan.

He salutes me playfully before walking out of view. The front door clicks shut a few minutes later.

I lie and wait for him to have forgotten something. His phone. A jacket. His wallet or some of his emergency cologne. Nada. The only thing he’s left behind here is me, and while that should be the only thing he’s worried about, he’s gone regardless.

Whatever. I have the internet. Limitless possibilities made possible by the modern world.

I’ll be fine.

 

* * *

 

Blankets are the worst and best thing, sometimes. They’re perfect for staying warm and falling asleep, but what if you can’t sleep anymore? It’s over, then. You’re trapped. It’s too cold to go anywhere else, so you stay there and you end up watching porn.

A shrill moan blasts out of the computer speakers, followed by a particularly lewd back and forth between this chick and her sheep co-star. “Ohhh, yes!”

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me you love it!”

“I love it!”

“Hell yeah!”

“Ughnnnn, open your mouth, you slut!”

The white wolf’s face is made even whiter on my screen, and the abrupt increase in brightness makes my eyes sting. I stretch, cracking the bones in my back one by one until I fall slack against the mattress. At this point, the ceiling is an easier thing to watch. Porn is a great time, don’t get me wrong –– especially interspecies stuff like this beauty. Who can resist the allure of something titled so elegantly as “Busty Beta Bitch gets Bukkake’d by a Big Horned Ram all night long”? But there’s no passion behind my viewing.

Mostly, its that I wish I had someone to watch this with. I think I can admit that now. I mean, I don’t want Wolt here, for obvious reasons. Literally anyone else, though. Anyone.

An erotic bleat turns my focus back to the laptop. The tortured O face of Ramrod Jones takes up most of the space, and in his gaping jaws and tired sea monster eyes, I find similarities to my next door neighbour.

Cormo should be back from work by now. He’s probably chilling in his apartment, actually. Sitting there and jerking off or thinking about how much he loves Bugburga.

Maybe he could use a little variety in his life?

I reach under my pillow and pull my phone out from underneath, making a virtual beeline for Muzzletime once I get past my eight pages of useless apps. The fact that he has no contact photo pisses me off, but its not like the hoofer’s ever given me a chance to take one. Does his phone even support this? Memory serving me, it’s a piece of shit, but you never know until you know, I guess. It’s not like I wasn’t going to try anyway.

Two rings ring out before I almost hang up, but a happy little whoosh interrupts me.

“Hello?” Remmy’s voice greets me from my phone speakers.

He actually picked up! I hold the phone level to my face.

First thing I see when the camera loads are my eyes, peering endlessly into themselves as I adjust the level of zoom. They slowly back away, revealing the rest of me. I fix my hair a little, sweeping it to the side and mussing it up before tapping Remmy’s deadpan stare in the corner. Our positions switch, and my screen’s invaded by a whole lot of panting fluff.

“Hi,” I chirp at him. He’s all sweaty, for some reason.

“Nice of you to actually say something,” he scratches his headwool. “Why’d you call? Is something up?”

“Nope. Nothing at all,” I smile. “And you’re lucky you got the call in the first place.”

“Am I?”

“Obviously,” A yawn sneaks into the middle of my sentence. “Hundreds of people would kill to be in your place right now. Thousands. Anyone I’ve ever met, really.”

“Alright, if nothing’s going on then I think I’m just gonna“

“No no no,” I interrupt, feeling my fur stand on end. “Do NOT hang up that phone fluff, or I’m going to fucking annihilate you.”

Cormo’s face says he believes me. The sheep halts his hoof, dangerously close to the phone’s screen, and puts it back at his side. “What, then?”

“Talk to me? Let's be real here, you need the company.”

He rolls his eyes (which looks absolutely wild with sheep eyes, let me tell you) and sits on the pavement. Yips and barks speed by him as two pups race by, and then it hits me: For the first time since calling him, I realize that he’s outside and that while figuring all this out I’ve been staring.

“S-So what––"

“On a run. Anyone ever tell you that you’re easy to place? You called at the right time, actually. Right when I stopped for water.” Remmy’s gaze drifts off past the camera only to snap back to it. “This isn’t some weird prank. You’re not waiting around the corner with a pie or a super soaker, right?”

“Nah, but that’d be fuckin’ amazing right about now. Wolter has me on house arrest.” I say as I flop over onto my stomach, stretching my arm out so he can see both my face and a hint of my twitchy tail –– to stir the imagination. “I just called because I was watching porn and the dude reminded me of you.”

Utter confusion clouds his face, followed by acceptance. “Right. House arrest? Didn’t know Wolt could just–I don’t know–lock you in like that.”

My tail starts twitching more aggressively at the suggestion. “He can’t. Dickhead just left me alone and now I can’t leave because I’ll get sicker, or get other people sick, and I need to guard the door against intruders even though my weak-ass body won’t be able to do anything. Except get the intruder sick. Plus, now I have nothing to do and no one to be miserable with.”

Cormo blinks, pondering on whether to say something or not. He can call me easy to place, but it’s a two way street.

“You wanna see the sights with me?” he blurts out. “They’re the reason I chose to stop here, anyway.”

“Sights?” I snicker. “You wander near the strip club or something?”

The screen lags as he switches cameras, freezing on a still of his smirking muzzle before I’m shown a giant wall, graff creeping along what I assume used to be single-colored brick. There’s a main mural, spread across the majority of the surface, but along its corners are a few scraps of tags and stencils by different artists.

My memory clicks. “That thing! In the alley. I’ve seen it before. Always just walk by, though.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“Nice...” I repeat, analyzing the pieces I can see from the camera. “Get a little closer. Bottom right.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

Grumbling softly, he moves to where I want him, getting the camera nice and close so I can examine a crudely drawn antelope with shearing scissors doing a backflip.

“Very nice.” I say.

Remmy exhales, halfway to a laugh but not quite there yet. “Indeed. Oh, I think I found another new one! It’s still wet.”

Motion sickness grabs at my guts as he speeds over to the other side of the wall. He lands on this beautiful stencil of Mayor Bellwether in a dominatrix getup. She’s standing over Mayor Lionheart, grinning and rubbing herself with a whip in hand. Poor guy’s completely terrified.

“Hot, and vaguely speciest. Still, I think I can let it slide. It’s better than the shit I’ve been watching, in a lot of ways.” Sighing, I roll to my side. “Just wish I could be there.”

“Me too.”

This sheep never ceases to surprise me. Or himself, judging from his heated silence. I smile softly. “Anything else worth seeing, grazer?”

“Y-You tell me.” Remmy stammers, steadying his grip and slowly panning across the rest of the wall.

The camera glitches, and in an instant it switches back to front-facing. Sheepboy is blushing hard, looking like he fell into a rouge rack in the make-up aisle at Targoat. Seconds pass before he notices the switch. His eyes widen and his cheeks flush whilst he adjusts his posture. “Uh, sorry. Shitty phone. You know how it is.”

I giggle softly before seeing that I’ve seen the top half of his outfit and not the bottom. Mmm. I’d bet he has his basketball shorts on, or does he own a pair of those super short running ones? Putting my acting chops to good use, I make my best attempt at a horrified expression. “Yo, Cormo. Bring the cam down! A spider just ran down your chest.”

“What?” he yells, bringing both his gaze and the phone’s field of vision downward to his shorts, which aren’t as short as I was hoping but in the right light, I think I can make this work.

“I see it. You gotta look really carefully. Bring the camera a little closer.”

“Seriously? I don’t see it.”

“Here, put the phone down.”

He obeys without a second thought. Misdirection is a beautiful, beautiful thing. Remmy’s not suspicious in the least of what’s going on as he crouches and props the phone against the wall. I get a nice, up close look at his second best feature, tilting my head and squinting for a hint of an outline or a bulge.

“Yeah, it’s there, alright.” I tell him. “You gotta stay reaaaally still, it’s not moving or anything.”

“Shit, is it big?”

“I hope so,” my tone turns dreamy. “I think I might be disappointed in the universe if it isn’t.”

Just as I catch a hint of what I’m looking for, he yanks the camera upwards.

Remmy’s glare loses its heat as soon as I throw my head back and cackle. The way that he can just switch between overly paranoid to fuckin’ stupid is amazing. “W-Wait! It was there, I swear! You just gotta get in closer, maybe shake your shorts a bit. Get it to start running.”

Placing a hand on his hip, he snorts in disdain. “Well, that was a good use of a water break.”

Alarms go off all around. Unbelievably, I actually forgot that this was a temporary thing. That’s the whole nature of company, I guess. Keep your mind off of the boring, bad shit until it wears out and you remember that there was a reason you were so happy to have it in the first place.

But maybe it doesn’t need to be like that.

“Hey, wait, why don’t you come over? I’m still sick, but we should be able to get through a few hours without you catching anything. Please?” I ask, so genuinely earnest that I’m a little disgusted. “It doesn’t matter too much. I just really need –– well, that’s not important. What’s important is that you drop all your plans for me, for no reason other than because that’s what I want. So how’s about it?”

A long moment of silence follows my offer. Remmy stares at the camera, completely still. It takes me a few seconds until I catch onto what happened.

“Oh, crap.” Tapping my phone frustratedly, I pick myself up and sit upright. “Come on, you can’t just do this to me. I believe in you, Cormo’s phone. You can do it. I know you can. Just get the connection back. You have one job, don’t screw it up. I know you look like you’re straight out of the early 2000s but you have the brains of a phone from the 2010s. Don’t piss on this for me.“

Squeaky, sped up gibberish floods out as the video begins to lag furiously. Remmy’s teleporting. His head jumps from one corner of the screen to its opposite within a second, and I see no movement for warning before he’s suddenly up in the camera’s face.

“Sorr...wow, shit. Low––“ Half of his words are lost to cyberspace as the hideous rape of our Muzzletime conversation continues. The last things I hear are a sped up series of chimes before the video closes.

I take a moment to recuperate. Like, did that really just happen? My exhales grow faster and angrier. I have some fuckin’ words for that sheep, the next time I see him. He needs to charge his phone more often. Shithead woolly wannabite son of a––

My phone vibrates once again, alive and well. At least now I know that it wasn’t a problem on my end. It’s a notification from the app, half a minute too late.

 

Remmy AKA marshmallow that I’m Going To Bang Cormo has exited the call.

 

I swing my arm back to toss the phone onto the other side of my bed, but it vibrates again.

Wolter’s photo shows up, along with the request for Muzzletime. Huh. Guess I’m not the only one video calling everyone today. Might as well see what he wants. Its not like I’m doing anything more important, thanks to Cormo and his wonderful piece of technology he calls a phone.

After I answer, pixels swarm the screen for a good half minute before they rearrange into my brother’s smiling face.

“Anna!” he sings, oddly happy for someone going grocery shopping miles away from home.

“What.”

“You called me.”

“Fuck off, no I didn’t.”

“Seriously? It says...whatever. Must have been an accident.”

“Is that Anneke?” A pointy snout pokes into camera view, coupled with a low, sarcastic voice. Avo? Wolter said nothing about going with Avo. What’s he doing with Avo? They’re not fucking. That’d be funny, but I don’t think they are. Why is Avo there?

“Yeah,” Wolt replies, now completely covered by the side of Avo’s muzzle. “Wanna say something?”

“No.”

The black muzzle is withdrawn, but another one takes its place as soon as it’s gone. “I do!”

Ozzy’s here too?

“Sup, Ozzy?”

“Annie!” he cheers, taking Wolter’s phone and adjusting the camera so I can see the whole of his face. “You doin’ any better? Drinking your medicine and a bunch of water every few hours?”

“Uh huh,” I answer. “No one told me you guys were meeting up. That’s pretty cool.”

He ignores the aggravation in my voice. “Oh, yeah, Avo and me were snagging some guitar strings when we ran into Wolt at some weird food market.”

“Wow. Lucky. I was actually gonna...” I trail off, deflating slightly.

The hyena tilts his head. “Gonna what?”

Call you next, because I thought you were home, but I guess the world’s actively trying to ruin me. “Nothing.”

“Hey,” Avo shouts from off screen. “Paws off the fuckin’ munchies, Marty! You’ve been going at those chips ever since we stepped off the damn bus!”

I frown and find a blanket to angrily snuggle into. “Where are you guys headed?”

Ozzy’s response is cut off by Wolter snatching the phone back. “We’re actually here now. There was this sweet cafe sort of thing that Marty wanted to go to.”

“Did you forget that I’m sneezing to death back at home?” I growl. “Because I didn’t.”

“You haven’t sneezed once since this call started, Ann. I think you’ll be fine,” he jabs. “Besides, I can’t just leave now. Avo asked me to spot her a few bucks, and I’m in a position to actually follow through.”

I’m seething right now. I feel like he’s not sharing a donut with me and is licking the frosting right off of it while making eye contact.

“You’ll be fine, though, right?” Wolt says again, brow starting to furrow in concern.

And somehow, I can’t tell him that its awful here and I need him to come back as soon as possible. I nod my head, and his smile widens.

“Sweeeeet. I’ll seeya later, then.”

Some seconds pass after the screen goes black, the sudden silence almost triggering something in my body. Itchiness sprouts in my snout. I inhale, squinting my eyes and rearing my head back before sneezing not once, no fuckin’ way, but twice in a row.

 

* * *

 

I remember this fortune cookie fortune I got once: Life is cyclical. It was bullshit –– still is. I wanted something exciting like “Avoid shirts!” or “You’re due for unexpected company!” but it’s pretty cool that it ended up coming true, as vague as it was.

I’m back to where I started, I guess. Half of me is tempted to go to sleep, take a nice long nap, but you know what? I think that I’m fine. Barely sick, and barely lonely. I don’t need to coincidentally run into a bunch of friends to have a good time and I can prove it.

Clanks and thuds ring out as I dig through our freezer, which is filled with beer and frozen food. Mostly some microwave dinner bug pasta stuff, but we got some frozen pizza earlier last week that I should be able to kill. Not eating anything but soup for 12 hours really starves you.

Soon enough the oven’s clicking and an extra large thin crust cheesy termite pizza is on its way to being cooked. Box says it’ll be around 30 minutes, giving me more time to kill before my appetite is sated. Yeah, Wolt. I’m making myself a delicious pizza without you and I’m gonna eat all of it by myself. Fuck you. Now all I need is something to pass the cooking time with.

After examining the limitless options I have, I decide to chill on the couch. Hopefully something good is playing right about now. Or Wolt comes back early. Not like that matters, though. I’m fine here. Completely content. I shake my head free of pining and press the power button on the remote. The TV flickers to life in an instant, playing me the middle of some kung fu movie. Boring.

The next channel looks like a horror movie. I’m introduced to a teenage looking antelope girl walks down a poorly lit house hallway. Low, almost ambient violin music plays steadily as the camera creeps down, passing through empty rooms and creaky floorboards. When she passes by the bathroom, the soft plink of the faucet joins the soundtrack. Do I hear breathing as well? The masculine kind. Not hers.

Change the channel, I tell myself. Save yourself from the oncoming paranoia. But while I barely saw that kung fu movie, I’ve already started on this one. I can’t just leave while I’m emotionally invested. What’s gonna happen to that poor prey girl?

I curse softly while wrapping a stray blanket around my shoulders, completely aware of the irrational bout of terror slowly building in my head. The lack of context only serves to screw me even more since I have no idea what to expect. Some sort of serial killer? Ghosts? Or she’ll find a creepy demon puppy waiting around the corner, whimpering at a wall, waiting for her to turn him around so he can jumpscare the shit out of everyone involved.

A thud comes from behind, almost making me twitch to see what’s sneaked up on me before the antelope chick starts running. The camera follows her as she frantically turns corners and hurls over stray pieces of broken furniture. She seems to be searching for something, what with how often she’s scanning her immediate environment.

I hope she finds it. Weirdly enough, the pure virgin chick is always my favorite character in these things. She’s probably only here because there was some abandoned house party that went wrong because the jock dude accidentally summoned a demon or something. I’ll bet five bucks that she’s done nothing to deserve this, too. And now the poor thing’s trapped here, imminent death on every shred of her mind, hoping with every other thought that someone’ll come and save her.

Eventually her sprint brings her to this classy-as-fuck study kind of room, books and empty whisky bottles lined up on the ground in some weird formation. She speedwalks around, looking for whatever she’s been looking for but never finding anything. She stops in front of the fireplace, above which sits a portrait of some sexy lion stud in military clothing.

“Richard,” she whispers. “Where are you?”

Her eyes look crazed. This poor antelope is breaking down (again, from what I can tell).

She turns around and her gaze latches onto a big comfy leather chair that she flips over in the next few seconds.

“Where is everyone? Is _anyone_ here? Oh my god, I’m alone. I’m alone here and I’m gonna _die_!” Her voice is on the verge of being noiseless from yelling, and she hears a sickening series of steps coming from outside the room. Like a horse sprinting, but impossibly fast. The door slowly creaks open, and she screams. She backs away, nearly falling into the fireplace. There’s nowhere to run. Her face speaks of an unspeakable kind of horror as she’s forced to wait for whatever is stalking over to pounce.

Yeah, no. I’m not doing this.

Turning my head, I expertly find the remote without looking and put the movie on mute. My attention is directed to my phone as I find something to keep me busy, though that proves to be a difficult thing. I end up swiping back and forth between the pages of useless apps, desperately trying to not think of what could be happening next.

Another creak whines out of the TV. I really need to fix this mute button, don’t I? Sometimes shit just can never work out for you. I press the button again, but when I do I’m greeted with a genuine, blood-curdling scream that nearly makes me drop the remote.

I mute the TV once more, a piercing chill working its way into my very core. The creaking continues. I turn the TV off to stop it, but the scene was genuinely without sound, I realize. Muting worked, and whatever I’ve been hearing –– am hearing now, well, that’s coming from inside my own home.

The door opens.

I jump off of the couch and scream at its general direction as I dash towards my room, but my goddamn stupid blanket’s wrapped around my foot. Every thought in my brain except ‘You’re dead’ is erased as I fall to the floor, my face making cold, hard contact with the wood before the rest of my body joins it. I’m almost in sync with the killer vixen across from me. There’s a cold look in her eyes as she stares at me, surprise fading from her oddly familiar eyes.

Wait.

It’s Charlie. It’s just Charlie.

She looks fairly nonplussed as we lay across from each other, not half as humiliated as I am that she too, was scared by an unforeseen noise.

“Anneke.”

“Charlie?”

“I seem to have caught you at a bad time.”

“That’s...no. It’s an okay time. What’s up? You need something?”

Something in her face changes. A rare sight, but known to happen occasionally. She immediately gets up and helps me to my feet.

“You’re bleeding,” she states, a sliver of concern in her voice. Sitting me down on the couch, she dashes off to my bathroom, bringing out with her a slew of medical supplies, most of which I’m sure don’t need to be used for...whatever this is. I feel a weird sensation in one of my nostrils, and reach up to find that––

Wow, I’m bleeding. Gushing isn’t quite the right word, but trickling isn’t the best either. An impatient stream, I guess. That’s how I’d describe it.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, are you?” Stop blushing, me. You don’t need to be.

“Why would I?”

Charlie attends to me for the next minute, wiping down my muzzle and some of my torso before tilting my head back and dabbing at my nose. I’d had her pegged for the whole cold military efficiency kind of aesthetic, but her bedside manner is surprisingly delicate.

“Lie down. Keep your head tilted.”

I do what the vixen says, resting on the couch’s arm and staring at my ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” she continues. The couch wiggles a little as she gets up beside me. “I didn’t realize that Wolt left. And you were still sick. I should have figured, though.”

Charlie out of the loop? Is the world doped up on nip today? “He went to get shit over on Savannah. Kinda surprised you’re not there, actually. Avo, Marty and Ozzy ran into him while he was shopping.”

“I see,” Charlie stops dabbing at me, choosing to lie back and turn the TV back on (to some boring dialogue, thankfully). “Those three went to get guitar strings, if I remember correctly.”

“Yep.”

“Do you know if you have any limes in your fridge?”

I sit up, trying to remember if we do. “I think we’re out. Sorry.”

The fox hums. “That’s fine.”

I wait for her to leave, staring for a moment before I notice that Charlie’s just straight up lost in the movie. It’s at your standard “doing-research-at-the-library” scene, where the main character –– an aardvark –– basically has everything he needs to win fall right into his hands and yet, somehow, he’s still going to fuck up towards the end.

“Charlie?” I pipe up during the aardvark’s explanation to his local priest. “I’m sick.”

She looks at me like I’m the one being weird. “I’m aware.”

“That doesn’t bother you? You might catch it.”

“I don’t get sick, and you don’t actually want me to leave.”

“Not true. I absolutely want you to leave because I don’t, _nnn, aaaa––_ “

I sit up and sneeze, curling up over my knees. All of a sudden Charlie’s back in my face, squinting at me like I’ve stomped on her tail or something.

“Whoa, chill, do you _want_ to––“

“I don’t get sick,” she repeats. “You’re bleeding again.”

Before I can clean myself up, the vixen puts a hand on my shoulder and dabs away at my torso. Again. Her cloth gently presses against my chest fur, making me struggle to not giggle when it brushes against my nips—

Oh, wow.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was naked?”

“I thought you knew.”

She gets back to work, going at my fur as my posture relaxes. I slowly unhinge and end up lying there, eyes to the sky as Charlie’s completely over me. There’s a tiny thrill I feel when I recognize that my neck is completely exposed. Her breath upon it makes me shudder as adrenaline rushes into me. This is so weird. The horror movie plays on. Screams and moans pass us by. Something hot is near my face. Hot as in the temperature. It’s too warm. I’m not into girls. Why am I telling myself that? I’m not into girls. I’m not into girls. When I remember that fact I finally get the courage to look up––

And then past my caretaker I meet the eyes of a blushing cloud of preddophilia with a giant boner in his running shorts. Remmy stands there, jaw slightly unhinged. Charlie turns away and looks back at him, unfazed.

“Cormo, nice to see you,” she states. “Care to join us?”

“I, uh. Dropped in because I thought, I’m gonna. I think,” he’s trying and failing to talk, slapped in the face by the misinterpretation made by his own dirty little mind. “Shower. That’s what I’m gonna do. Yeah. Gonna go home and take a shower.”

The sheep speeds off into his apartment, where I hear him slam the door and run –– presumably into the bathroom to have a panic attack. A preddo attack, more like. Or is Remmy attack more catchy? I need more thoughts on this, but maybe for another time. Preferably when I’m not covered in blood.

“Do you know why he came here?” Charlie questions me once she’s done. She’s settled into her earlier position again, though not as invested in the movie.

“He must have heard me earlier,” I think out loud. “You know you don’t need to help me clean up, right?”

“And you let me do so regardless,” she responds.

A piercing tone rings relentlessly all around us, stabbing my ears.

“Smoke alarm,” says the fox, managing to somehow cut through the noise. “I’ll be back.”

I look to the kitchen, dread sinking in at the sight of the healthy black smoke cloud rolling into the living room. When I look back at my companion, she’s gone. All I get it a hint of her bushy tail rushing out the door, presumably to her place.

“What? Charlie! Come back. You gotta help me put that out, I don’t know shit about fire extinguishers!” Typical. Play nurse for me and then leave right when the work shows up, why don’t you?

I’m forced to run outside with my blanket and kick Remmy’s door down. It doesn’t work, seeing that he has like two hundred locks, but he answers quick enough, shirtless and flustered.

“Wha––“

“No time, we have to take matters into our own hands,” I slide through and locate the nearest fire extinguisher, snatching it and dragging the sheep with me into my apartment.

There’s a lot of smoke, now. Dangerously so. I wonder if wool is super flammable? Too late, I guess. We run into the kitchen and just as I’m about to pull the door open, Cormo nudges me away, turning the oven off and the kitchen fan on. I raise an eyebrow at him as he opens one of the windows.

“What are you doing?”

“Did you _want_ to burn your eyebrows off? Because that was what you were going to do.”

I cross my arms. “Oh, and you’re suddenly some kind of fire expert, now?”

“Nope, just interested in keeping my face burn free.” The sheep takes the extinguisher from me. “I’ll be back. I meant what I meant about showering. Don’t open the oven.”

“Remmy,” I call once he’s near the door.

He stops to look at me.

“Charge your phone next time.”

I turn away from his fading footsteps, towards the oven. I didn't really need pizza anyways.

 

* * *

 

Sitting here and waiting is surprisingly hard, especially when I’ve been doing it all day. You’d think that I’d be able to take a few more minutes, but no. In this moment I’m more anxious than ever and it’s fuckin’ awful. I’m starting to miss the TV, but the venting of the fan’s just a little too loud to catch what’s going on. Standing and looking out into the rest of the world will have to do for now.

On the bright side, the smoke alarm’s done screeching and half the pizza was only seared heavily instead of being burned beyond redemption. I’m so hungry I’m gonna have to eat it despite its flaws, anyhow. Alone. Because neither Charlie nor Remmy have come by, yet.

“I see that you’ve put some clothes on.”

To my delight I smell chips, guac, and a slightly sweaty vixen.

“There was one last lime in the fridge. I just couldn’t see it,” she says, presumably in response to my hungry sniffing. “Were you planning to stare out the window all day?”

“No.” Just until I could be sure that I wouldn’t be totally ditched again.

The view in front of me is pretty damn cool. I guess it started raining at some point, but not enough to be annoying. At least in my opinion. It’s like someone left the faucet on, but at the lowest you could possibly crank it. A mist drifts just under the sky and the way that the sun hits it makes it look awesome. It’s on its way to a rainbow, but not really.

“So, I could have died.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Because of Cormo –– who in any other situation would have probably died, too –– but at least we have snacks, right?”

Charlie moves beside me, bowl in hand, offering it to me in agreement with my sarcasm. Wordlessly, I take a chip and dip it in the guac, getting as much as I can on top before shoving the whole thing into my mouth. My taste buds are caressed by the creamy sensation spreading across my tongue. I can taste hints of the lime throughout, and it makes sense why she needed one so bad.

“You sure you don’t get sick?” I ask, wolfing down a couple more chips.

“No, but I’ll make due if I do,” she looks at me. “Are you crying?”

I shake my head and snatch the bowl out of her hands, strolling back to the couch and placing it next to the half eaten, burnt portion of pizza. The movie’s at its climax, so I start what’s likely going to be a long surf until we find something good to watch. Charlie takes a spot to my left with a slice of pizza.

“I’m glad you managed to get Cormo to help you,” the vixen mentions offhandedly before taking a moment to bite and swallow her food.

“Yeah, me too,” Remmy says, locking the door behind him as he enters the apartment. He goes into the kitchen to turn the vent off and makes his way over to me, taking a seat to my right with the chip bowl. “Annie literally could have died, Charlie. What the hell were you thinking?”

“That’s what I said!

“She’s fine. Her luck is alarmingly high.”

Why am I smiling so much? I take notice of the sheep beside me. Specifically, the loud crunching sound he makes as he shoves the chips into his mouth. “If you’re really that starved, grazer, I got something for you to eat right here if you really want it.”

He blushes, but that’s not the important part. His cock is twitching, judging by the way his eyes are. The heat practically radiates off of his face as his stare drifts from my eyes, down the curves of my body, eventually stopping at the plate of burnt pizza on my lap.

“Oh.” Remmy seems to have been expecting something else, but he takes a slice. “Thanks.”

“Found something,” Charlie says, directing the two of us to the bigscreen.

It’s a sitcom. Not bad. Especially once you realize that its all about bunnies. About twenty of them are crammed into a bar booth, half struggling to not fall over or start pushing. Banter arises from all around, making it hard to focus on any in particular.

“Man, this better end in an orgy.”

“Seeing that this is airing on Fox, I doubt that’s going to happen.”

“Bunnies in the Burrows! Used to watch this shit all the time when I was in high school. Its just sad that they had to cancel it due to half the cast getting––”

“Pregnant?” Me and Charlie voice in unison.

“Fired for––” Remmy deadpans.

“Sexual harassment.”

“Misconduct,” he finishes, dragging his hooves over his face, though not so much in frustration as to hiding his growing smile.

Arguably delicious food in our mouths and something easy to digest on the TV, we settle into the couch. I’m back where I started. Again. Only with a fox and a sheep instead of an almost perfect identical copy of myself. Idly, I wonder what Wolter’s doing. He should be on his way back, now, but knowing the kind of shit we tend to get up to, there’s some kind of delay or wacky situation that needs solving. Stopping that train of thought, I really need to piss.

Excusing myself, I run to the bathroom and go about my business. I take a few extra minutes to apply eyeliner and such. It _is_ my apartment, after all. The fact that I have guests over is kind of sinking in. Gotta look my best, even when my immune system is torn apart.

When I open the door next, there are four extra mammals in my apartment.

Marty and Ozzy are in the big comfy solo chair, and Avo and Wolt are perched on the couch’s arms. They’re all grilling Remmy about the show, but he’s keeping up with the banter. Looks like Marty’s still reeling from something he probably said.

They all take notice of me as I watch them from a distance.

“Hey, Annie!” Ozzy chimes. “You thought you could throw a party without us?”

“You better not give me the flu, shorty.”

I blow a raspberry at Avo. She flips me off in return before getting back to the show.

Wolter hops off and walks up next to me, scanning me for injuries. “Yo, you alright? Charlie told us you were bleeding? And then refused to explain the burning smell.”

“Tried to make pizza, but that went badly.” I explain. “How was your day? Why’s everyone here?”

“Alright. Cafe was closed,” he explains. “So I brought everyone here to relax a little. How was yours?”

“It was...it was awful. And long. But it was alright.” It feels so much more true when I say it out loud. “Yeah. Lots of stupid shit, but I had it all taken care of. With some help. But mostly me, obviously. And, actually, it wasn’t really that long. Or awful. On second thought, I got most of the things that I wanted.”

I look over to the living room. Over to good company and a spot on a big, comfy couch saved just for me. “I just had to wait a little, I guess.”

Wolter slings an arm over my shoulders. "Stuff tends to work out for us, doesn't it?"

"Most of the time."

He laughs, pulling me close.

"How long do you think they're gonna stay?" I ask after a moment.

"An hour. Or three."

"I can live with that. Could probably use the company."

"You don't really have the choice."


End file.
